


You said just give me a direction, and take us somewhere else

by waning_croissant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (very minor), Blanket Fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, ambiguous timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waning_croissant/pseuds/waning_croissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides to get Scott away from Beacon Hills by planning a camping trip just for the two of them. He probably could have planned a little bit harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You said just give me a direction, and take us somewhere else

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'For Bad Days' by The Poem Adept.

Scott hits his limit at the first flash of lightning overhead. The glare briefly illuminates Stiles' face, and his expression is so comically horrified that Scott just can’t hold in the laughter that’s been threatening all day. He spares a moment to think that maybe the thunder rolling overhead will hide the sound, but a sharp jab of Stiles' elbow at his side is proof enough that it doesn’t, not even a little.

It only makes him laugh harder to see Stiles scowling down at him in the glow of the next lightning flash. Then they're pitched back into darkness and Scott hears the shifting of Stiles' sleeping bag as he rolls away from Scott with a groan.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Scotty.” The words are muffled as Stiles curls more fully into his blankets. “Yet another failed plan to add to the list.”

Scott can’t help another huff of laughter, but winces when Stiles just hunches further into himself. There’s a genuine sense of misery coming off of him, beyond what the situation seems to warrant. “Hey, I’ll take a little bit of rain over the kind of stuff that normally wrecks our plans. It’s kind of nice to just have a normal problem.”

Another slither of blankets, and when Scott looks over just the top of Stiles’ head is peaking cautiously out from sleeping bag burrito, hair in disarray. “Can’t argue that. Maybe the worst of it will pass us by?”

Scott winces, not saying anything. “Oh god, you can hear it getting closer, can’t you? Why am I even asking, of course you can. This is exactly why I never bother with optimism.”

The rain is, in fact, starting to pick up in the middle-distance, but Scott doesn’t think the confirmation will help any. It’s probably best just to let Stiles rant himself out.

“And it’s not just a little rain, Scott. It’s a blown out tire, two hours lost on back roads, damp firewood, and now — of course! — an oncoming storm. While we’re out here relying on a tent you’ve had since kindergarten. And please don’t remind me that that’s still better than our usual problems, it’s just depressing.”

Scott's not sure how to explain it to Stiles, but the woods around them feel and smell more alive for the rain. Rather than trying to find the words, he just lays back down with a contented sigh. The solidity of the earth at his back, the sounds of the forest — it’s all comforting to him in a way he wouldn’t have anticipated. Beacon Hills may be a small town, but the air here still feels clean and crisp in a way he isn’t used to, and while the rain may yet become unpleasant, for now it’s just a soothing pattering of sound against the fly of the tent. He’s always loved camping, but his heightened senses and the contained wildness of his wolf make it a whole new experience. 

And anyway, it’s been years since his last camping trip. It used to be something he did regularly with his mom, back before she was picking up shifts at the hospital left and right. Scott’s still not sure how much his mom actually enjoys camping, but it always made for an inexpensive way for the two of them to get away and spend time together. His memories from those trips are happy and uncomplicated: the way she’d taught him the patience to brown a marshmallow to perfection, laughing with him whenever he’d end up with a flaming ball of sugar.

It’s clear now, though, that it isn’t just nostalgia that’s made him miss those trips. Running through the Preserve is one thing, but this feels peaceful in and right in a totally new way. Well, peaceful aside from the almost tangible sense of anxiety growing around Stiles, beside him.

“Sorry it’s not going the way you’d hoped, man. I still don’t even know why you suddenly wanted to do this. You hate camping.”

Stiles flails next to him, contained by the sleeping bag, which probably saves Scott from getting smacked in the ribs.

“That is just— Slander! I love camping. I am rugged and manly and a huge fan of eating half-cooked meals off of sticks, and how dare you suggest otherwise.”

“Stiles, you have literally bailed on me while ‘camping’ in your own backyard. In this same tent, even.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have enough extension cords to get the TV _and_ the PlayStation outside. Entirely reasonable.”

Scott laughs again, happy to have disrupted the cloud of anxiety a bit. He stretches his arms out above him and resettles with them crossed beneath his head. “Whatever you say, man.”

The rain’s definitely falling heavier around them now, and Stiles’ grumbling is a familiar and weirdly comforting counterpoint.

Scott doesn’t realize he’s been drifting off a bit until there’s a sudden rustling next to him. When he blinks his eyes open, Stiles is leaning over him, squinting down at Scott. His eyes probably aren’t so adjusted to the darkness, Scott thinks, and his scrunched up expression is unfairly cute. Scott smiles up at him, too relaxed to police that kind of thought like he usually would.

“You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sounds awfully accusatory for being the guy who planned this trip without regard to the weather.

“Should I not be?”

Stiles’ expression does a complicated little shift that Scott can’t quite parse, but then smooths over as Stiles sighs a little. And it’s not exactly cold out, but the look of fondness Stiles is giving him still feels like it warms his chest.

“No, dude. I think I’m a little worried for your sanity, but that’s good. That’s the goal, even.” Stiles lays back down next to him and Scott can actually feel his spirits rising. “Maybe this plan can still be salvaged after all.”

Suddenly it’s a lot clearer why Stiles was so insistent that they leave behind both TV and gaming consoles for a long weekend of (by Stiles’ standards) roughing it. Scott thinks he might burst with it: affection and gratitude and all the ways he wants to acknowledge it but isn’t sure how to, especially without setting off Stiles’ tendency toward deflection through rambling. He hasn’t gotten any closer to a decision when Stiles lets out a long whine next to him.

“Noooo, dude are you fucking kidding me?!” 

“What’s wrong?” Scott thinks he maybe let too much concern into his voice, because Stiles is quick to reassure him.

“Ugh, it’s fine, it’s fine. I just don’t think this tent is as waterproof as it used to be.”

Sitting up, Scott starts to shimmy out of his sleeping bag, his body acting before he can give his brain a chance to catch up. “Here, it’s probably just where you’re touching the sides of the tent. Come on, out of the sleeping bag.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and is probably gearing up to explain, in detail, the problems he has with that idea, but there’s a crack of thunder right above them. Stiles shivers but does as he’s told.

Scott makes quick work of flattening their sleeping bags out into two large blankets, shifting his mat toward the center of the tent and encouraging Stiles to do the same. He feels a bit of resistance in the heaviness of Stiles’ limbs as Scott adjusts them both, turning Stiles onto his side and tucking the edges of the blankets under them and away from the tent walls. That hesitation is still there as Scott starts to curl himself around Stiles’ back, and he pauses. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, I mean — I mean, sure, as long as you’re okay, wouldn’t want your sleeping back to get wet, too… oh god.”

Scott rests his forehead at the top of Stiles’ spine, laughing helplessly.

“Shut up, asshole! You know what I mean.” But despite the complaint, Stiles huffs out a laugh as well, relaxing back against Scott and even guiding Scott’s hands to clasp at Stiles’ belly. “Bet you think you’re being real smooth right now."

Scott nods against Stiles’ back. It’s amazing to think that it could really be this easy, but he’s going to run with it, so Scott presses a kiss where his forehead had been resting and gathers Stiles in closer. “Feeling better about your planning skills now?”

“Immensely, dude, you have no idea. Who knew operation Scott-is-banned-from-saving-people would dovetail so nicely with operation take-Scott-to-bone-town?” Stiles squirms back against him with a little shake of his hips, and never before has Scott been such a unique combination of horrified and turned on.

“Dude, no. Please never say that again. That’s awful.” Stiles is still laughing and shifting back against him when the rest of that statement really lands, and for all their physical closeness Scott feels more distanced from his best friend than he has this entire trip. “Wait a second. Since when am I banned from saving people?”

“Since we embarked on this relaxing vacation away from pack business and Beacon Hills’ terrifying brand of supernatural bullshit. I have given Derek strict instructions that no one is allowed to call you except in an extreme emergency. And even then, only if they’re sure Lydia can’t just explode the problem. I am dead serious, I will require photographic evidence of an explosion before we go back to that town ahead of schedule.”

Scott doesn’t think anyone has ever had quite the talent Stiles has for evoking conflicting emotions in a person. First horrified and turned on, and now Scott’s a confusing tangle of grateful and betrayed.

“Oh really? And let’s say we’re hiking tomorrow and you manage to trip and fall over a ravine. Am I supposed to just let you fall? Please, clue me in on the details.”

“You can try to stop me from falling, but you’re not allowed to fling yourself after me to break my fall. That’s the difference, Scott.” He’s pulled up short for a moment at the sharpness of Stiles’ words, the clear anger behind them. But only for a moment.

“And what if I’d heal from the fall but you might not? Do you even realize how hypocritical it is to ask me to just stand back and let something like that happen?”

“Jesus Christ, Scott.” Stiles lets out a frustrated and noisy exhalation, thumps his head back against Scott’s forehead and the tension seems to go out of him. “I don’t know. Operation Scott’s-banned-from-saving-people isn’t really a functional long term plan at this point. I’m working on it, though. For now is it too much to just ask you to exhaust all other options before you swan dive off a cliff after someone?”

Scott lets out a long breath through his nose, Stiles twitching a bit as it tickles the hair at his nape. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

“Oh God, please don’t be sorry on top of everything. _I’m_ sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this, and I know sometimes you get less than a second to react. I mean, it’s impressive, all things considered. I just thought you deserved a break, Scott.”

“And so, camping.” Scott nuzzles the back of Stiles’ neck a bit, trying to re-capture the easiness of just a moment ago. The short, bristly hair at the base of Stiles’ skull sparks a sense memory of when he’d first tried to help Stiles buzz off his hair and it adds to the comfort of Stiles’ warmth at his front.

“Ugh, yes, camping. Hiking. Previously mentioned half-cooked food on sticks. Everything your wolfy instincts have been craving, I’m sure. You’d better make an effort to enjoy it so that at least one of us will.”

“I mean, I can probably think of at least one thing my ‘wolfy instincts’ have been craving that you might enjoy.”

“Ha!” Stiles rolls over under the layered blankets, eyes wide and delighted. “Now who’s awful? Wow. I am so unexpectedly proud. Is that the kind of line that sent Kira running?”

It’s the sort of perfectly Stiles line that would probably offend most people, but Scott just rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure your ex had more to do with that, Stiles.”

“True. God, just imagine the awkward double dates we can go on now.”

It does sound awkward, in theory. But Scott thinks it may just be yet another thing that would be weird for most people, but could work just perfectly for them.

“Now tell me about all the depraved things you’ve been craving, Scotty. We can compare notes.”

Stiles’ expression is as lascivious as his tone, but both are belied by the fact that Scott can hear his heart beating wildly, can feel a slight tremor in Stiles’ hands resting at his waist. This has been easier than Scott is used to expecting from life at this point, but it also feels like a sea change. It feels like something he wants to take his time with, so he just leans forward, the bridge of his nose brushing along Stiles’ cheek as he presses a careful kiss to Stiles’ lips. “One thing at a time, okay?”

Stiles nods slightly. His nose feels a bit cold from the chill, and he breathes out shakily before reaching up and fitting his palm alongside the curve of Scott’s face, thumb brushing right at the uneven cut of Scott’s jaw. Then Stiles is returning the kiss, mouth open and slick against Scott’s until they’re both breathless with it.

Scott tilts his head back a bit, and he can’t remember ever having felt so shocky and overwhelmed by a kiss. If Stiles’ wide-eyed silence is any indication, he might just feel the same.

“One thing at a time,” he repeats, and the words don’t sound at all the same this time, breath hitching and voice low. He’s grateful when Stiles doesn’t even tease him about it, just nods and turns back around in Scott’s embrace. It’s a bit of a relief to not have his expression on display anymore, to be honest. Scott hugs him tighter, relaxing into the stillness.

The thunder is a distant rumble again, the woods quiet around their little clearing as the rain slows to a drizzle. Scott thinks that they might get a bit of good luck with the weather tomorrow… maybe they can even extend the trip by a few days. This new facet of their relationship, it’ll be nice to explore it a bit on their own, away from the complications of their lives, the curious eyes of friends and family, of pack. And however things turn out, Scott knows that Stiles’ presence next to him is just as right, just as grounding and necessary, as the feel of forest floor beneath them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd throw in a note that I'm waning-croissant on tumblr! Please come say hi.


End file.
